


Be Prepared

by Lady_in_Red



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Boy Scouts, Camping, F/M, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Rain, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 20:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20841872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_in_Red/pseuds/Lady_in_Red
Summary: Cub Scout leader Brienne takes her boys camping in the Kingswood with parent volunteer Jaime along for the ride. A freak storm forces them to spend a little time alone together.Prompt: day 1, freak weather, new beginnings





	Be Prepared

**Author's Note:**

> It's still Monday where I am, if only just barely.
> 
> I have experience as a parent with Cub Scouts and leader with Girl Scouts, but I may have fudged details here and there.

Brienne finished tapping out the last caption and posted the photos of the day’s activities. Her favorite was definitely the one of her little Bear scouts all sitting around the fire, concentrating hard on toasting their marshmallows just right. The rain hadn’t moved in, thankfully, until after the boys were safely tucked into their tent, complaining that they had nothing to do until Brienne produced a deck of cards from one of the many pockets in her cargo pants. 

She could still hear the five of them giggling and chattering over the steady pounding of the rain on her tent. Brienne loved the sound of the rain, a near constant companion in her childhood in the Stormlands. Some winters it seemed the rain stopped only long enough to splash massive rainbows across the Narrow Sea. One of her favorite folktales involved Tarth’s surefooted bighorn sheep coming over from the mainland on one of those rainbows, tempted by the emerald peaks of the island. 

No sounds came from Jaime Lannister’s tent, but that wasn’t a surprise. Wrangling the boys was admittedly a lot to foist on a first-time volunteer, and his eyes kept drifting closed as they all sat around the campfire earlier. She still couldn’t help a snort of amusement at the memory of his designer jeans and obviously new hiking boots, both scuffed and smudged by the end of their long tramp through the woods today looking for flora and fauna to add to their nature notebooks. At least she’d stopped him from touching the poison ivy. 

He’d taken much of yesterday to settle in, first too sharp with the boys and then too lenient, but he was learning. Last night he’d taken charge of getting the boys to sleep at a reasonable hour, and today he’d been great with them. That he was here was more than enough. When Davos had canceled at the crack of dawn yesterday morning due to a stomach virus, Brienne hadn’t relished calling the parents to cancel a trip she’d been planning for months. Most of their pack would only go to the new camp on the northern shore of the Kingswood, with its cabins, indoor plumbing, zipline and high ropes course. Which was fun, but she liked the simplicity of popping some tents and building a fire, too. 

The first parent, or guardian she should say, she’d called was Jaime Lannister. He was a ghost these past few months, his handsome but weary face popping up at the beginning and end of each meeting, but he never stuck around to talk. At first she’d thought he was just a new driver, since Tommen’s parents had never dropped him off at meetings. Davos had finally told her that Tommen and his sister were now living with their uncle. She hadn’t expected anything but possibly irritation about the late notice when she’d called, but when Brienne told him that she had to cancel the camping trip because she didn’t have enough chaperones, he’d offered to come along. 

Brienne checked the time on her phone. It was after nine, time for lights out. She crawled over to the tent flap and unzipped it just enough to peek out. The fire was completely out, which was a nuisance, but she had a small camp stove they could use in the morning. The boys’ silhouettes were still visible in the lantern light splashed against their tent. To the side, between her and the boys, Lannister’s tent was dark, but it appeared to have developed a rather worrisome lean. The rain fly had come loose and water was pooling alarmingly in a loose flap of material, dragging down one corner of the tent, where the peg was already pulling out of the soft ground. 

She flashed her large flashlight at the boys’ tent. “Lights out, Bears,” she called, hoping they’d notice one signal or the other. She didn’t relish the idea of putting her boots and coat back on and trundling out into the wet to make the boys go to sleep. 

“Yes, Miss Brienne,” Bran piped up. That one was trouble. His hands were still a bit sticky with pine sap after she’d caught him 30 feet up in a massive tree when he was supposed to be helping cook hot dogs over the fire.

The lantern in the boys’ tent clicked off, and she was just about to zip her own tent up again when a twang and a thump sounded to her left, followed by a splash and a screech. 

“Shit, fuck, mother-fudge, godsdamn,” Lannister howled, fighting loose from his collapsed tent. His bare feet squelched in the mud and he growled. 

The boys hastily unzipped their tent flap, poking their heads out into the steady rainfall, five flashlights trained on a sopping wet Jaime Lannister. His sweatshirt and track pants were plastered to his body, his hair dripping into his eyes, glasses he hadn’t been wearing before covered in raindrops. 

“That’s four dragons in the swear jar, Uncle Jaime,” Tommen pointed out solemnly, his green eyes huge but a small smile on his face. Brienne suspected that swear jar was filling rapidly.

“ _ Fudge _ is not a curse,” Lannister countered. 

Tommen started yanking the tent flap open further, and Brienne turned her flashlight on them. “You boys stay dry. I’ll help Mr. Lannister.” The boys would get mud everywhere if they left their tent, so she jammed her feet in her boots to go help him. 

“Jaime,” he muttered. “I keep telling you my name is Jaime. And you could have helped me setting this up.” 

“I thought you knew what you were doing.” Granted, she’d helped the boys set up two tents in the time it took him to wrestle one into submission. 

“Do I look like I know what I’m doing?” He bent to yank up the tent flap and peer into the deflated tent. “Bloody useless piece of garbage.” 

“Wet?” she asked, struggling not to laugh. The glorious lion with his wavy golden hair and beard now looked more like a drowned housecat. 

He looked back at her, his jaw tight with irritation. It was cold tonight, he must be miserable. “Everything’s soaked. There’s a puddle in the middle of my sleeping bag,” he said flatly.

Thunder rolled over them and lightning flashed not far away. 

“Why don’t you come here, I can at least give you some dry clothes.” Because of course Jaime Lannister was slightly shorter than her, and his feet looked roughly the same size. He could borrow her spare boots, the ones she always brought in case she managed to fall into a creek while hiking. 

Lannister nodded, then dove back into the collapsed tent, emerging with his phone in his hand. Miraculously the screen still lit up. As he trudged over to her tent, Brienne told the boys, “Back to bed. I’ll take care of Mr. Jaime.” 

He snorted at that and shook his head, ducking into the tent and standing right on the threshold as the boys’ flashlights winked out behind him and the telltale zip of their flap closing signaled the boys’ return to their sleeping bags if not sleep. They would take a few minutes to settle down. 

The rain intensified outside, pounding the tent. Lannister was dripping everywhere, his muddy feet now standing in a small brown puddle. Brienne pulled off her boots, set them aside, and tossed him a towel. 

“Dry your hair and your feet, and I’ll find you some clothes,” she told him, turning to crawl over her cot to her duffel bag. She ignored his grumbling while she fished out a pair of sweatpants, socks, and a Cub Scout hoodie. 

When she turned around, apologetically explaining, “Sorry, I don’t think you want to wear my—” the word  _ underwear _ stuck in her throat when she realized he was shirtless, scrubbing the damp towel across his shoulders. 

Jaime was checking out her tent while she checked out his tanned, well-defined chest. The tent felt even smaller with him in it. She usually preferred a smaller tent. It was easier to keep warm, and she didn’t mind since she never had to share it. The cot took up almost all the floor space. A small lantern hung below the peak of the tent, dangling from a small carabiner and nearly knocking into her head as she knelt on the cot. 

"Thanks,” he mumbled, dropping the towel and taking the clothes from her hands. 

“I can turn around,” she offered, and did it before he could answer. Brienne prayed that none of the boys decided to tell their parents that Tommen’s uncle was in Miss Brienne’s tent. 

Rustling behind her was only too easy to interpret, the wet thump of his sodden pants and probably his underwear, hitting the tent floor, reminding her that a naked man was right behind her. A very attractive naked man. She couldn’t remember that ever happening. The five 8-year-old boys only about 20 feet away were barely enough to keep her mind from going to naked and naughty places. 

More rustling, and then Jaime sighed. “You can turn around now.” 

He looked good in her clothes. A little silly, since the hoodie had “den mother” embroidered on one side, a gift from Davos, who refused to believe women leaders weren’t called that anymore. Still, Jaime looked ridiculously good. She tried very hard not to think about the fact that he was going commando under her sweatpants. He shivered, and Brienne remembered how cold it was supposed to get tonight. Not freezing, but not warm either. “Well, we have two choices here. You can sleep in my SUV, or we can share this tent.” She tried not to sound nervous about that second option, because it really meant share a bed. It was a two-person cot, and she had a large sleeping bag with some extra blankets because she liked to be cozy. 

Jaime looked down at the cot, eyes narrowed. “Those blankets would be soaked by the time I got to the car, wouldn’t they?” 

“Yeah,” she admitted. No way around it. 

Jaime sighed. “You sure you don’t mind sharing?”

It was awkward, but she could deal. Hell, the next time Sansa bugged her about dating, she could honestly say she’d slept with a gorgeous man, no lying required. “It’s fine. Here.” She shoved her sleeping bag to one side and sat on top of it, spreading out her spare blankets on the other side for him. 

Jaime’s shoulders relaxed. “If you’re sure.” 

“I think we can be mature about this,” she said with more confidence than she felt. 

He sat on the cot, testing its stability, and shuffled over so he wasn’t hanging off the edge. “If I snore, I apologize now. Tommen’s never mentioned it, but he’s a heavy sleeper.”

Why would Tommen be the only one telling him he snored? Surely before the kids came to live with him, he’d never lacked for female company. “It’s fine, really. I don’t think I snore either, but feel free to elbow me if you discover otherwise.” 

Jaime smiled at her, an appealing shyness to his features she never would have suspected from the man when he’d shown up looking like a North Face ad yesterday morning, hauling Tommen, one of his friends,and all their gear in a brand-new family sedan. She’d suspected his previous car was faster and more impractical. 

“I’m sure you’re regretting it now, but thank you for coming. The boys would have been really disappointed if I had to cancel the trip.” Brienne offered her own small smile. 

Jaime ducked his head and shrugged. His wet hair flopped across his brow and he raked it back, leaving it standing up in messy spikes. “I’ve been pretty damn useless.”

Brienne reached out and touched his arm. “You haven’t, I swear.” He really was only good for keeping the boys occupied, he had no camping skills at all, but they followed him like a flock of ducklings, picking up useless damp twigs for the fire, bending the tent poles with their enthusiastic pounding, and singing mildly inappropriate pop songs in their high off-key voices. “I wasn’t kidding. I just needed a warm male body.”

Jaime looked up at that, struggling not to laugh and failing. 

Brienne flushed, her face instantly hot, some very unsafe for children images flashing through her mind, aided by her new knowledge of just what Tommen’s uncle looked like under his clothes. Her clothes. Gods, she was pathetic. “I didn’t mean,” she spluttered. “Gods, no, I just—it’s a rule. I can be a den leader, but I can’t take the boys on trips unattended.”

Jaime stopped snickering, mostly, and cocked his head in confusion. “Whyever not? Aren’t you one of those boys’ mother?” 

Brienne laughed and shook her head. “How old do you think I am?”

Jaime took off his glasses, wiped the raindrops from them and put them back on. “Twenty-five?”

“Twenty-four,” she corrected. “And no, none of those little monsters is mine. Davos and I work together, and he roped me into this last year. He needed help as the den grew, and well, you’ve seen how much their parents participate.” Davos still very obviously missed his sons, lost in a boating accident a decade earlier, and loved working with the boys. 

It was Jaime’s turn to blush a bit. “Yeah, um, I didn’t realize. Tom said none of the other adults stay at meetings, and I didn’t want to embarrass him.” 

Brienne squeezed his forearm, trying not to notice the strength in that arm, and released him. “He’s a very sweet boy. He’s been pushing me to set up a service project helping a TNR program in Flea Bottom.” 

“TNR?” Jaime asked, confused.

“Trap, neuter, release. It’s a more humane way to reduce the feral cat population over time instead of just euthanizing the cats,” Brienne explained. Nearly everything she knew about it came from research Tommen had presented to her. 

“So basically he wants to run around Flea Bottom catching mangy strays,” Jaime said slowly.

“Pretty much,” Brienne admitted. “Which is why I’ve put him off. We’re researching a group to fundraise for instead. Some of the parents wouldn’t take kindly to their little angels getting anywhere near Flea Bottom, much less touching animals that might carry disease.” 

“You’re good at that,” Jaime pointed out. “Redirecting them into something productive.” 

"I try. Otherwise they just spin around in circles at meetings and ignore whatever lesson or skill Davos is trying to teach.” Brienne stretched up and clicked off the lantern, leaving them in darkness. It took longer than she would like for her eyes to adjust, and in those seconds she managed to grope Jaime’s leg and then knee him as she tried to climb into her sleeping bag. 

Jaime took the hint and lay back on the cot, yanking the blankets over himself. He didn’t have a pillow, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Whatever you’re doing, it’s working. He’s come out of his shell so much the last few months.”

Brienne laughed a little. “That’s funny, I thought that was all your influence.” 

Jaime laughed too. “Um, no. It’s like the blind leading the blind at my place. Tommen’s teacher had to text me and point out that soda and spicy chips weren’t an appropriate school snack.”

It was so much easier to talk to him like this, in the dark. “Can I ask you something?” 

Jaime sighed. “Where’s his mom?” 

“Yeah.” She shouldn’t ask, but it felt important to understand Tommen. 

“She got a DUI over the summer. The kids weren’t safe with her anymore.” He didn’t elaborate, so she didn’t ask, but she assumed Tommen’s mom was in rehab. 

Brienne reached out meaning to pat his arm and found his hand instead. She squeezed it. “You’re doing something good here. Tommen’s a great kid. I’m sure his sister is lovely too.”

“She hates me. I’m boring and mean.” Jaime sounded hurt by that. He’d never survive her teen years if he didn’t toughen up.

"These boys call me that all the time.”

“They adore you. I don’t know how you do it. You have everything they need before they need it, like magic. You’re like the living embodiment of the scout motto. Be prepared, right?” 

He meant well, she was sure, though it wasn’t all that flattering to be praised for being boring and rule-bound. “That’s the Boy Scout motto, actually. In Cub Scouts it’s a little different. Do your best. That’s all you have to do for those kids, Jaime. It’s enough.” 

To her surprise, Jaime knit their fingers together, a small connection in the dark. They stayed like that as the rain poured down outside and they stayed warm and snug inside.

When she opened her eyes again, Jaime’s arm was around her waist, and his face was very close. Outside the tent, the sun filtered through the trees, and she could hear the boys squabbling about how best to light a fire. She should get out there before they did something unwise. 

Jaime was snoring. Except his mouth was closed, and his eyes were fluttering open, and he smiled at her and the noise continued.

Brienne lifted her head, and found Tommen snuggled up behind Jaime. He was wearing full-body hooded fleece cat pajamas, and he was snoring. She dropped her head to her pillow. “How did he get in here?” she whispered. 

“I don’t know. He does it at home, too.” Jaime slowly removed his arm from her, and she immediately missed it. 

“I should get out there before they mutiny. The food’s all locked up in the car, and I’ve got the keys.” She got out of bed slowly, trying not to jostle the cot and wake Tommen. His muddy boots were by the tent flap. At least he’d remembered to put them on. 

“Hey, Brienne,” Jaime said softly.

“Yeah?” She turned back to look at him, and was struck once again by how good-looking he was, somehow even better sleepy and rumpled and wearing her clothes. 

“Do you maybe want to come over for dinner sometime?” He actually sounded nervous, which made no sense at all.

“Sure. You know I like spending time with Tommen.”

An odd expression flitted across Jaime’s face. “Actually, I was thinking maybe we’d have dinner with the kids and then leave them with a sitter?” 

It took a moment for Brienne to understand what he was asking. “You mean like a date?” He must not mean that. He must want to trade tips on how to deal with the kids or something.  


Jaime smirked. “I think that’s what the kids are calling it these days, sure.”

She wanted desperately to ask _why,_ but wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer, considering what he'd said about her before. Instead, she asked, “How old are you?” He looked young, except for the strands of silver hair around his temples, unless you looked into his eyes. There was something old there.

“Thirty-seven,” he answered. “Too old?”

Sansa would kill her if she said no because he was older than her. And really, Brienne didn’t want to. “Okay, sure.” 

“Tonight?” 

“Really?” She shoved her feet into her boots and laced them up, rummaging for her knit cap and jacket next. 

“Yeah, why not?” Jaime asked, turning onto his back. Tommen flopped against him and continued to snore. Side by side, they looked so much alike. The whole family must be gorgeous. 

Brienne pushed aside her jealousy at how unfair that was. “If we can get these boys out of the woods by two, you have a deal.” They were due back in King’s Landing by 4:30 to return the kids to their parents.

Jaime grinned. “Okay. It’s a date.”

“Okay,” she echoed, and ducked out of the tent, into the morning sun, where her scouts had carefully laid all of Jaime’s things out to dry on the ripped tent, including his underpants. Well, that answered that question. This was definitely not a dream.

She laughed quietly to herself as she set up the camp stove and started making coffee and pancakes. Davos was never going to believe this when she told him at work tomorrow. 


End file.
